


First Time I Heard Your Voice

by kittensmctavish



Series: Buzzfeed Soulmates AU [6]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Karaoke, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 05:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: Karaoke night.





	First Time I Heard Your Voice

**Author's Note:**

> ‘shoves more Dave Malloy down your throat because I can, goddamn it’ I rushed to get this done before going to bed so it probably suck more than usual. I am a tired Kittens.
> 
> (Also “No One Else” is a lovely song and you should all go listen to it.)

“Shane, for the last time, no matter how much you look, they do not have ‘Plupple Honeymoon’ available for karaoke.”

“Well, then, what the fuck am I SUPPOSED to sing tonight?”

“Anything else in the world that you didn’t write.”

You laugh as Ryan runs a hand over his face while Shane pushes the binder full of karaoke songs away in disgust. Sara pats her soulmate’s back comfortingly (while quietly laughing her own ass off at his histrionics).

“You could always jazz it,” you offer. “Ward the Axeman off.” Shane rolls his eyes, but grumble on how that’d probably be suitable. You reach for the binder. “Anyone else gonna look through this?” Heads shake, indicating “no’s”. You pull the binder in and begin to flip through pages.

“Ooh.” Sara leans forward. “Are YOU gonna sing us something?”

“Pssh, no,” you scoff. “I’m just curious.” You scan the table of contents, looking for a “Broadway” or “Theatre” or “Musicals” section. (If you were to sing tonight, and you don’t intend to, it’d probably be something from that.)

“Aw, come on!”

You ignore Sara’s pleading as you move to the ‘Broadway” section of the binder. In the background, there’s general chatter from fellow Buzzfeed employees, the sound of Devin singing some pop song you don’t recognize, playful catcalls and cheers for her. The lighting in the karaoke bar is dim (at least, it is at the tables your small group is sitting at).

There are a lot of predictable choices – Rodgers and Hammerstein, Disney musicals, “Hamilton”, “Wicked”, so on and so on…

“Adam, convince this woman that she should sing a thing!” Sara declares. You look up, sensing someone approaching your side. You look up and smile at the sight of a confused Adam. He looks at Sara. Then his eyes dart over to you. Then back at Sara.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, sitting down, pushing a glass towards you. “I got you a Shirley Temple”.

“Thanks. I owe you,” you say, smiling at him as he sips from his glass of beer. You lean down toward the straw of your glass and sip. “Mmm…you can really taste the 1930s.”

“You’re not gonna SING Shirley Temple now, are you?” Shane asks with joking worry.

“No, but I have a sudden urge to curl the fuck out of my hair,” you say, picking up the maraschino cherry from your drink and biting it off the stem. “And also, I’m not singing.”

“Why nooooooot?” Sara whines.

“You would look terrible with curly hair,” Shane says. You throw the stem at him, right at the same time Sara smacks him in the shoulder. He looks over at her, affronted. “I didn’t say curly hair looks awful! I said it would look awful on HER!”

“Yeah. That’s why I smacked you.” Sara scolds before looking back at you. “Anyway, why don’t you wanna sing? Karaoke’s fun!”

“You could sing one of these.” Adam, who’s been reading the binder over your shoulder, points at a spot on the right page that you hadn’t gotten to yet. You read what he’s pointing at…

“Oh, shit!” You lean over the binder at the titles of the songs from “Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812” that this karaoke bar surprisingly has. Oh…now it’s a little bit tempting…

“What is it?” Ryan asks.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say, trying not to be too conspicuous as you cover the names of the songs with your hand. “I’m not gonna sing.” Sara throws her hands up in frustration. “I mean, I’m impressed by their selection. I just…”

“Can’t sing?” Ryan asks. “Is that it?”

“No, she can sing.” All eyes at the table turn to Adam. He shrugs. “She sings in the car.” You glare at him.

“You’re a scoundrel and a blackguard,” you mutter as you reach for your drink.

“Pleeeeease!” Sara said, reaching over and shaking your arm. “Serenade me!”

“That’s Shane’s job; he’s YOUR soulmate,” you say, patting the top of her hand gently. “He can check the Alternative section for some Panic! at the Disco, get some ‘Sara Smiles’ all up in this bitch.” Adam snorts from behind his glass.

“You know, you’re coming up with all these excuses that don’t stop other people from having fun,” Shane says upon draining his glass of the last dregs of beer. “When has not being able to sing ever stopped a good number of people from singing regardless? Just look at Jen!” Shane gestures towards the stage. You look. At the moment, Jen is up there, hamming her way through what’s probably a hilarious rendition of “Barbie Girl”. (In the background, you hear Keith offering the “COME ON BARBIE LET’S GO PARTY’s” in far too deep of a voice.) “Jen can BARELY carry a tune, and she doesn’t let that faze her! Because it’s FUN.”

“And you don’t need a soulmate to serenade someone,” Ryan adds. “I mean, Helen’s not my soulmate, but that hasn’t stopped me from getting up onstage and embarrassing the shit out of her by dedicating a love song to her and proceeding to butcher the fuck out of it.”

You shrug in begrudging agreement (while inside, something sharp pings at your heart).

“Is it because the only things you know how to sing are those weird musicals you like that are weird?” Shane asks, resulting in annoyed looks from Ryan and Sara.

“Wow, you get MOUTHY when you drink,” you say. “Also, why you gotta do my boy Dave Malloy wrong like that? You don’t hear me insulting your fuckin’ Hotdaga songs.”

“You insult them all the time!” Shane argues.

“…that’s true. I do do that.” Ryan holds his hand up, and you reach over and slap your palm against his.

“I’ll do karaoke if you do karaoke,” Adam offers. You look over at him, eyebrows raised.

“…really?” you ask. Adam shrugs, but nods.

“I won’t sing WITH you, but I’ll sing something,” Adam says. “But you should sing. You have a pretty voice. Other people should hear it.”

“God, I can’t believe you two aren’t dating,” Shane mutters. You kick what you presume are his shins.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

“Sorry, Ryan,” you say, wincing. Thought that was Shane.” Ryan gives you a small smile, indicating that it’s okay.

“I’m honestly gobsmacked that you missed his legs and got me instead.”

“Right?”

“ANYWAY, so now you’re gonna sing something?” Sara asks eagerly. “And then Adam’s gonna sing a thing later?” You glance over everyone in the group before rolling your eyes, sighing, and nodding.

“Adam, help me choose which song,” you say, propping the binder up so the three on the other side of the table can’t see the song choices.

“Why does he get to help?” Shane whines.

“Because he knows the weird musicals I like that are weird,” you quip.

“Is it gonna be a sweet song? A funny song?” Sara asks. “A SEXY song?” You glance at Sara from over the top of the binder.

“Sara, I’m about as sexy as a bowl of cottage cheese that’s been sitting in the sun for a week.” The noise of disgust that escapes Shane almost makes your Shirley Temple go up your nose.

“Um, EXCUSE YOU, ma’am,” Sara exclaims, “but did you not rock the FUCK out of that dress at that party you went to?”

“That dress wasn’t sexy, though,” you argue.

“You looked sexy IN it. Shane, back me up on this.”

“I mean…she hates the Hotdaga, so she’s unsexy by default.”

“RYAN. Back me up on this. Our soulmate’s of no use.” You duck your head, knowing that if Ryan calls you any variation of sexy, your face is going to promptly burst into flames.

“I don’t know about SEXY, but…” You can HEAR Ryan wince. “That sounded bad. More like…you never wear dresses. So seeing you in a dress was…it took me aback at first. Like, I didn’t recognize you straight away. And you looked…really nice.”

“Stunning,” Adam mumbles. You elbow him, side-eying him for good measure.

“Yes. Stunning,” Ryan says, pointing at Adam in agreement. “That’s what I commented. And it was true.”

“Thanks, Ryan,” you say. …your face hasn’t burst into flames, but it feels hot, so you keep your head ducked.

“I’m still not doing a sexy song,” you tell Sara.

Aw, then what ARE you gonna serenade me with?” Sara teases.

“You seem so convinced that I’m gonna serenade YOU,” you fire back.

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to serenade ME. You could serenade your soulmate!” If you freeze slightly, you hope only Adam has noticed. “Like, wherever they are in this world. Perhaps they will sense in their heart – that you are singing a song to them and it’ll make them smile and know they are loved.”

You can feel Adam glancing over at you. You look over at him. You’re both hidden enough by the binder that no one can see this exchange. There’s the slightest tinge of sympathy in his eyes before he whispers just loud enough for only you to hear:

“Go for it.”

His finger brushes against a title. You look at it.

…you nod.

“Chosen a song?” Shane asks as the binder comes down. You nod, closing the binder and picking it up as you stand. Sara chants your name, pumping her fist in the air lightly.

“We’ll cheer you on,” Ryan says with a smile. What can you do but smile back and nod.

“I’m gonna tape this for blackmail,” Shane says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. You chuckle sarcastically before flipping him off.

As you approach the stage, you see Eugene singing…you’re not sure what he’s singing, but he’s lap-dancing the shit out of Zach while he does and the crowd is loving it (and Zach is REALLY loving it). Ignoring it, you approach the person who queues up the songs and point at the song you want to sing. The person raises their eyebrows, but nods and presses some buttons. You quietly thank them as a final burst of applause and cheers fills the bar.

“Hey, you up next, girl?” Eugene says to you as he placed the microphone back on the stand. You nod. “Top that.” He winks and saunters offstage.

The cheers for you are less than for Eugene, but still supportive as you step up towards the microphone stand and try to find the best position in the light while also being able to see the karaoke screen (which…you don’t and do need – don’t for the words, do for the queues with the music).

As you wait for the instrumentals to kick in, Jen very clearly yells “I WANT YOUR BABIES!” Laughter ripples through the room, and you try not to smirk. And then the first bits of piano can be heard. A few “whoo’s!” at the start of a new song, but you close your eyes and take a deep breath, steeling yourself…getting into “character”…preparing for the first words…hoping that you’re warmed up enough to not completely butcher these first two notes.

“The moon…”

Floaty, no vibrato, no crack or rasp to your voice. So that’s good. You glance at the changing color of the words to know when to cut off the “moon” and move on with the song.

“First time I heard your voice,” you sing, closing your eyes, “moonlight burst into the room…and I saw your eyes and I saw your smile…” From behind closed eyelids, you see Ryan’s eyes. His smile. You smile. “And the world opened wide…and the world was inside of me…” Your smile grows. “And I catch my breath and I laugh and blush and I hear guitars…you are so good for me…”

You inhale, preparing your heart and soul for the next four – the first four – declarations of:

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!” A short breath. “I love you…” A little weaker. A little sadder. A little more desperate. Because fuck…if only he knew…

“Oh, the moon…oh, the snow in the moonlight…” (You always love playing with the dynamics of the “oh’s” as you hold them out – starting them at nothing and letting the volume blossom.) “And your childlike eyes and your distance smile…I’ll ever be this happy again…you and I…and no one else…”

If there was any clapping or an errant cheer, there isn’t now. It isn’t that kind of a song. It’s a song that has always just…drawn you into it, like the warm embrace of an unfamiliar yet familiar figure.

Inhale. The second verse.

“We’ve done this all before…we were angels once! Don’t you remember?” It takes all of your willpower not to direct this at Ryan and Ryan alone, so you glance over all the crowd, lights in your eyes, making them sting, reaching out slightly with your hands. “Joy and life inside our souls, and nobody knows, just you and me… it’s our secret…”

Denee Benton, on the cast recording, it just so joyful at this part of the song. There is a slight giggle in her throat following “secret”, and you’ve never been able to hold back a matching giggle of your own. You back off from the microphone a little, glancing up, as though you ARE outside, standing in the moonlight, gazing up at it.

“This winter sky! How can anyone sleep? There was never such a night before! I feel like putting my arms around my knees and squeezing tight as possible!” You hold your arms out as your voice floats up to “And flying away…like this…” (And inside, you’re jumping for joy that you pulled that quick dynamic change off as well as you did.)

“Oh, the moon…oh, the snow in the moonlight…” Your eyes are closed again, utterly given into the song, into Natasha’s shoes for a moment. “And your childlike eyes and your distant smile, I’ll never be this happy again!” You press your hands over your heart, desperation growing with dynamic.

“You and I…You and I…You and I!”

Instrumentals cut off. Your voice cuts off. Silence. The silence of a breath being held in anticipation.

You open your eyes.

“And no one else…”

It’s as though reality is hitting you like a wave. Sadness sweeping you into a gale.

“Maybe he will come today…” you begin the finish, voice wavering. You blink, eyes suddenly watery. “Maybe he came already.” It’s suddenly very hard to sing. “And he’s sitting in the drawing room.” You can’t hold the note as long or as prettily as Denee. “And I simply forgot.” A sad shrug with the last chord of the song. And then you’re stepping away from the microphone.

It’s a slow response at first, as though the applause is waking up. It’s not as raucous as, say, Eugene’s spectacle or…any other normal song anyone in their right mind would sing at a karaoke bar. But it’s appreciative. Impressed.

Maybe the equivalent of the reaction of people seeing you in a dress for the first time.

You step away and quickly back in the direction of the table, before anyone in the main crowd can approach you. Your hands shake, and everything  about you suddenly feels very fragile.

You’re vaguely aware, as you sit down, of Sara showering you with praise, Shane begrudgingly admitting that the song was pretty good, and Ryan…not saying anything.

You blink. Something hits your cheek. You reach up, and your fingers come back damp.

“Sorry, I…” You manage a watery laugh before sniffing. “I’m just gonna get some air.” You stand back up and make a beeline for the door of the bar. not looking back to see if anyone follows you.

It’s not winter outside. But it’s nighttime, so the air is cool against your face hot with…being overwhelmed. You sidestep to the brick wall of the outside of the bar and lean your back against it, closing your eyes, sighing, and allowing yourself to sink into the tempest. You don’t slide down the wall (brick plus sliding equals pain)…but you lower yourself to a sitting position.

You draw your knees up, put your arms around them, and squeeze as tight as possible. You struggle not to drown, sniffing back what could threaten to be a sob.

In your reverie, you faintly notice the sound of footsteps. Someone sitting next to you.

“Got you a Roy Rogers.”

Adam. You open your eyes (which loosens tears) and look over at him. He sets a glass carefully  between the two of you. You sweep the tears away and lean against his shoulder.

“I forgot for a moment…” you murmur. “For a moment, I was selfish, and I wanted just him and me…” Another sniff. “But there’s not no one else.”

“I know,” Adam says, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“I just…” The tears come a little quicker now. “I finally got to say those words…and he doesn’t know…and he’ll never know…and I can’t…”

You don’t know how to articulate it. So your close your mouth and try not to burst into sobs. Adam slips an arm around your shoulders, squeezing them, pulling you closer to him as you cover your face so he can’t see you dissolve.

He can’t tell at first that you’re crying, you’re keeping it so quiet. Not until your body begins to shake. Then his other arm is around you, in as best of a hug as he can manage in your position.

It doesn’t last long, the crying jag. You force it not to last long, uncovering your face, the wind in the air chilling the remnants of tears under your eyes. You duck your head away from Adam and rest it against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Faint cheers from inside the bar seep through the door.

“If…”

Had it not been for the vibrations in his chest, you would not have known Adam had spoken. You lift your head and shift to look at him. He glances down, as though trying to remember something.

“If I were not myself…” he begins, “…but the brightest, handsomest, best man on earth…” He looks up at you. “…and if I were free…” The tears well in your eyes again. “…I would get down on my knees this minute…and ask you for your hand…and for your love.”

You don’t have to force a smile through tears. One appears on its own. Adam’s smile is small, sad, and sincere.

“You son of a bitch,” you whisper. Which makes Adam laugh…and you, in spite of your mood. He reaches up to wipe away a tear. “That bit always makes me cry. Every time.”

“I know. I’ve been in the car when it happens.” You nudge him gently. “It’s the only spoken line, so…”

“Also we’re already sitting down, so…the knees thing seems redundant, somehow.”

“Yeah.”

You lean into him more, closing your eyes.

“Thank you,” you breathe, barely audible. His beard tickles your face as he presses his lips to your forehead.

“I meant it…sort of…” Adam pauses. “Like, if neither of us ever tell them by the time we’re…like…40…I’ll marry you.”

“Friendship marriage pact. I like it. …can we do 35?”

“35’s fine.”

“Cool.”

You turn your head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“We should probably go back inside,” you sigh.

“Probably,” Adam sighs.

You reach for the up-to-this-point ignored glass of Roy Rogers and pick it up before taking Adam’s hand. He pulls you up into standing.

“Guess what?” you say.

“What” he asks.

“You still have to do karaoke,” you remind him. He groans. You laugh. “I’ll buy you a beer when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

He sounds so sullen about it that you laugh again. And as carefully as you can with a full glass in your hand, you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his shirt. He says nothing, but hugs you back. After another moment, you pull away. “All right. Time for your moment onstage.”

The two of you walk back into the bar to the dulcet tones of Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch”, as sung by Kelsey. (It’s not half bad.)

“I’m gonna go up there and get in line if there is one,” Adam says. You nod, and the two of you part ways. You’re hesitant, walking to the table, because…yeah, earlier was…awkward.

And you’re not surprised when, at the sight of you, Sara immediately stand up and rushes over to swoop you into a hug.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You sounded so good up there, and your voice is so pretty it made me cry and then I wanted to cry again when YOU were crying and—”

“Sara, slow down.” You pat her back before she pulls away. “I’m fine. The song just…gets to me.”

“It was beautiful,” she says, beaming.

“Thank you,” you say, allowing her to guide you back to the table.

“So, um…” Shane begins, but then focuses on the glass you set in front of you. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“A Roy Rogers,” you say. “Adam got it for me.” Shane rolls his eyes.

“How many nonalcoholic drinks names after dead movie stars ARE there?” he asks.

“At least three,” you say as you take a sip.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asks. “After your song, you were…”

“I’m fine, Ryan. Thanks.”

“You sounded amazing,” he says. “I didn’t say anything earlier and I’m sorry about that, but…” He presses a hand over his heart. “It got me right here. You have a beautiful voice.”

…well, fuck if you don’t want to cry all over again.

“Thanks,” is all you can manage to say before you stare at your drink, stirring it with your straw. (You can’t look at him right now. He’s just…so sincere…and his smile is so…)

“I think I was expecting that Mothman-sounding lady from that one song, so…” Shane says, and you’re so glad you hadn’t been taking a sip because otherwise Coke and grenadine would’ve gone RIGHT up your nose.

“Yeah, no, Shane,” you laugh. “Not all Dave Malloy songs are like that. Just some of them.”

“Oh my god, ADAM’S GONNA SING, YOU GUYS,” Sara says, drumming her hands on the table for attention. You turn and watch Adam pointing in the binder, while the person in charge of karaoke tries not to laugh, but nods and enters something in. “What do you think he’s gonna sing?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” you say, before waving a finger in Shane’s direction because you KNOW he’s poised to speak. “NOT ‘Plupple Honeymoon’. Adam’s got taste.”

As Kelsey’s song comes to an end and she bows, Adam walks on to the stage, returning the fistbump Kelsey offers him. He stands casually at the microphone as cheers of “BIANCHI” full the space. You clap and let out a “WHOO!” of your own.

A chord of voices pipes through the speakers. Adam leans in to the microphone.

“The Simpsons,” he sings plainly.

And he returns to his standing position and stares at the crows as the very instrumental doesn’t-have-words theme to “The Simpsons” plays.

Some are stuck in dumbfounded silence. Some begin to laugh. Some boo, but not in earnest – rather the amused kind of boo that one makes when a joke is being pulled. Adam reacts to none of it.

“Are YOU JOSHING ME?” Sara exclaims, flinging her hands in the air before laughing. Shane buries his face in hands in silent laughter as Ryan giggles “Oh my fucking god.”

You just shake your head and raise your glass in toast. If Adam can see that, he doesn’t react.

It’s kind of amazing to watch. Because eventually, people in the crowd begin humming along to the song. And near the end of the song, Adam takes the microphone out of the stand and holds it out in front of him. At the last triumphant “BA-DA-DA-DA!” he drops the mic.

“OUT-FUCKING-STANDING, SIR!” you call as everyone applauds and laughs. Adam picks the microphone back up, sets it back in the stand, and walks offstage without acknowledging the crowd at all.

By the time Adam sits back down at the table, Sara and Ryan are wiping tears of laughter away, while Shane still has his face buried in the table. (You can only imagine the workout his abs are getting from laughing as hard as he has been.”

 “What’d you think?” he asks you, picking up your Roy Rogers and sipping from the straw. And fuck if that doesn’t get Sara laughing again.

“Okay, so…” You take your drink back. “You ever see that really old Andy Kaufman sketch from SNL? The one where the Mighty Mouse theme is playing and all he does is wait to lip-sync to ‘Here I come to save the day!’? That sketch?”

“Vaguely,” Adam says.

“Yeah, that karaoke track is the equivalent of that.”

“Right?”

“All that was missing was if you’d had a drink up there with you and you took an unnecessary sip from it at some point.”

“…goddamn it. Why didn’t I do that.”

“Next time.”

“Nah, next time will be ‘Plupple Honeymoon’.”

“Shut up, Shane.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome and appreciated.


End file.
